


Fifth Blight

by FandomN00b



Series: Solona Amell and the Rebel Wardens in the East [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Origins playthrough, excuse my messy galaxy brain..., having all the feelings this playthrough, so many complicated relationships in origins!, this game is 10 years old so why not?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomN00b/pseuds/FandomN00b
Summary: Solona Amell may have grown up in the Circle, but she jumped at the first chance to leave after her Harrowing when Duncan offered her a place with the Grey Wardens. She had no idea that a few days later, she and the second newest Grey Warden would be the only two Wardens left in Ferelden. Now they'll have to recruit an army to stop the Fifth Blight, and save the world, with help from a pretty bard and some new and unexpected friends.





	1. Contradictions

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly canon-friendly for a female Amell that I'm writing as I play through Origins in honor of its tenth year of existence (I'm a fake fan who has only actually played all the way through it once, as a Brosca <3). Canon-breaking and post-game stuff will be posted as separate works in this series.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona meets Leliana, her future wife, for the first time in Lothering.

Solona’s first tavern. And first brawl, with other humans, anyway. It was hard to separate out how much of the exhilaration she was feeling right now had come from the freedom to actually test her skills in combat, all the new experiences of life outside the Circle culminating in this, or was it the instant attraction she felt for the “lay sister,” as she referred to herself? 

Solona couldn’t resolve the contradictions of this woman…her Chantry robes covered in blood, none of it hers, sprayed from the slicing of her own dagger in quick, well-trained defense.

A pretty face, to be sure, pure and innocent, but then there were those perfectly pouty lips. Everything so well-composed at first glance – the kind of woman Solona had always been suspicious of in the Circle – until she spoke…with an underlying ferocity burning beneath that charming accent and the discerning glare of _experience_ set in the creases that revealed themselves between her eyes.

_Leliana_ is what she'd said her name was, in that false sing-songey voice of hers. A bard's voice. But Solona wasn't sure if that was just the name she'd given her sweet Orlesian facade, if she didn't have some other deeper, darker name. _Desire_, perhaps, given the way she immediately captivated her imagination and made her want to know what was beneath those robes...both figuratively _and_ literally. Mouse had been Pride, after all. And while Solona was pretty sure she wasn’t in the Fade, why couldn’t this woman also be something more than she seemed?

"I hate bards!" Alistair had grumbled to Solona after she’d introduced herself and given the three of them a moment to deliberate on her offer of joining them. "Just going on and on with some cheeky fairy tale while robbing you blind or stabbing you in the back."

"I would think you would enjoy the stories, being such a simple child…" Morrigan mused.

Alistair sneered at her obligatorily before turning to Solona. "We should go. To Redcliffe. Before more people try to collect the bounty on our heads. Besides, I don't think anyone left around here is willing or able to help us stop a Blight."

"I don't know..." Solona glanced back over her shoulder at Leliana. "_She_ seems like a pretty capable fighter..."

"But…” Alistair looked appalled. “But...she was talking about having _visions_! From the _Maker_!"

"And you hear an Archdemon whispering to you in _your_ sleep!"

"But that’s different! And you hear it, too...at least, you will. I think."

"Not if I just refuse to ever go to sleep!" Solona stamped her foot and stuck out her tongue at him, while he shook his head and stepped closer, ready to grab it.

"Children...please,” Morrigan implored. “Focus less on the awkward sexual tension between yourselves, and more on our task…”

Solona couldn’t help but smile as Alistair’s cheeks burned and he shot Morrigan another nasty look.

_Yes_, Alistair was handsome. Adorable, even. And she supposed she was fond of him in spite of his whining and his annoying sense of duty to Ferelden and the Grey Wardens and his fondness for cheese. But the way she felt for him was more akin to the way she felt about the dog, which wasn't to say she wouldn't kill an entire army of Darkspawn to protect him, but...

“Well, what do _you_ think of her, Morrigan?” Solona asked.

“Oh, are we voting?”

“If we were…”

“Then I’d agree that she seems quite useful. And it’s not like we can afford to be overly choosy…”

“Of course you’d side with her!” Alistair whined. “It’s because I’m a _man_, isn’t it?”

“Oh, dear Alistair, you are _hardly_ that…”


	2. Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona is hungry.
> 
> (Based on lots of people's head canons that the hunger Wardens experience after their Joining also extends to their sexual appetites...I mean, it's practically canon, right? But the fic that has really inspired me to adopt this was Kauri's [Sunshine in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568123/chapters/44014762) about Bethany (!!!) after her Joining...)

Solona threw herself dramatically down onto the log next to Alistair with an aggravated grunt.

“What’s wrong with _you..._?” he asked in that slightly amused, overly inquisitive tone of his.

Her foot was bouncing furiously up and down and her hands couldn’t seem to stop moving as she tried to smooth them over her thighs, then clenched them into fists, before finally clasping them together in her lap. 

“Nothing...well, everything. But nothing that can be helped, really. Just feeling especially..._frustrated_, at the moment.” She kicked a log into the fire and sent sparks flying into the night. “_Fuck_!”

She had just been speaking with Leliana, whose infectious giggles and exaggerated Orlesian accent had been drifting over the entire camp while Solona’s low murmuring about Maker-knows-what-_they_-had-to-talk-about seemed only to be encouraging her.

Alistair couldn’t imagine what could be so entertaining after the day they’d had hunting werewolves in the Brecilian Forest, but he had assumed, with more than a _bit_ of jealousy as he glared into the fire, that things were going well between them. So what did _Solona_ have to be frustrated about? 

Unless..._oh. _

_Oh_! 

She _had_ just undergone the Joining..._of course_! _That_ might explain why she'd seemed so immediately _enchanted_ by the strange Chantry bard.

He peered curiously at her, an odd smile on his face. “Ah. _Frustrated_, you say?”

“I feel like I’m _starving_, too. So maybe it’s just that.”

Yes. That _was_ a part of it, he recalled, as he began to remember his own Joining...

“I know we just ate, but do you have any more of that awful-smelling cheese? Or maybe some biscuits? I would literally kill a man for some chocolate or some sweets right now, but I’ve eaten my way through the last of my Grey Warden provisions and didn’t find anything but hard tack and jerky...”

She looked desperately at him and he saw it in her eyes -- a deep, dark hunger -- and then it all came rushing back to Alistair. 

Those early days (or was it _weeks_?) of relentless yearning. How could he have forgotten? Duncan had helped him through it, of course. Explained to him that what he was feeling was normal, expected, even. That it would pass. He sent him on errands to keep his mind and body busy. There was nobody in particular for him to _yearn for_ at the time, only old men among the small gathering of Wardens he’d joined, so he'd tried unsuccessfully to sate his endless appetite with food. He’d eaten so much cheese that he’d probably gained an extra fifteen pounds. Duncan gave him extra provisions, plenty of time alone in his quarters, and otherwise tried to turn a blind eye to all his fidgeting and restlessness and uncharacteristic surliness.

"Ah, I was wondering when that might kick in…" he chuckled. “I used to sneak into the larder in the middle of the night and I ate every meal like it was my last those first few weeks…and all the other stuff.” He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s all a side effect of the Joining. Though all the fighting, nearly-dying, and general despair must've delayed it a bit."

"What do you mean ‘other stuff’?" she asked irritably, almost accusing him. Like it was _his_ fault she was feeling this way. He supposed, in some ways, it was. He was the only person left that she could blame for it, anyway, and he’d sort of forgotten to warn her, hadn’t he? 

"Well, um, let’s see…” He took a deep breath. He’d had a sort of father-son relationship with Duncan, but how was he supposed to explain this part to _her_? “Feeling a bit..._amorous_, are you, as well?”

"Horny, you mean? Yes! I haven’t felt like this since I was a teenager...” She looked down at her hands still clenched together in her lap. 

“Yes. Another symptom of the Taint, I’m afraid. The _hunger_. For everything. And I do mean _everything_."

“Maybe I should just go back to my tent and masturbate furiously like I used to do back then? Imagining myself seducing certain young Templar recruits...”

"Yes.” Alistair gulped. “That _is_ something...you..._could_...um...do. Alone."

She laughed wickedly. For someone suffering as much as she claimed to be, she was still certainly quite capable of teasing him. And she could be as ruthless as Morrigan when she wanted to be.

"Ugh. Fine,” she whined. “Yet_ another _thing nobody warned me about before making me drink from that cursed chalice. Is there anything else I should know about?"

"You mean, other than the nightmares? And the Calling? And the whole...duty to stop the Blight no matter the cost?”

"Yes,” she muttered, staring into the fire. “Thanks for the reminders. It’s all just...wonderful.”

“I’m sorry." He looked down at his own lap, his face falling suddenly from his usual self-conscious smirk to a sadness Solona felt at least partially responsible for. "Duncan was a far better mentor than I have been.” 

“He’s gone, Alistair. You’re all I’ve got.” She turned to face him, that familiar neediness in her eyes stirring some uncharacteristic boldness within him...

_Not yet_. In a few days. Maybe weeks if they survived that long. Then he could tell her that he was beginning to develop _feelings_ for her. “Well, if you need anything…”

"Yeah, actually. I need to ask you something. Promise not to be mean?”

Or maybe he _would_ tell her now. If she was asking... “Promise.”

“Ok, and be honest, please!”

“But you just made me promise not to be mean…” he teased, trying desperately to diffuse the sudden urge he had to lean forward and kiss her.

“Leliana _is_ super pretty, though, right? I'm not imagining that, am I? And she seems kind of into me, too? Don’t you think? Real flirty, anyway…”

Alistair sat silent, shocked, even though he knew he shouldn't have been. He felt his stomach drop, and his heart felt like it had gone crashing down through the ground all the way to wherever the Archdemon lay curled up deep below, waiting to burst through to the surface and destroy the world.

“_ALISTAIR_! Tell me this isn’t just MY TAINT talking!"

It was all he could do to just shrug and murmur numbly, "She’s not _my _type…but if you like that sort of thing..."

"Oh? And what's _your_ type, then?"

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you!" he snapped back at her, a little too bitterly.

"Why not?" She looked honestly confused by his sudden change in tone. 

As _if_ she had no idea.

"Because you're mean. And...you’re..._you_ \-- you just need to wait it out.” 

He sighed, trying to compose himself. 

“A couple of days. A few more brushes with death and the smell of Darkspawn burned permanently into your olfactories...that should take care of whatever fevered desires you’ve got for food or sex…or...” he seemed to be making a mental note, “...chocolate." 

“Tell me! Tell me tell me _tell me_!” She grabbed his arms and was practically shaking him while he continued trying halfheartedly to shrug her off. “I _need_ to know! What kind of person do you fancy? Right now, I feel like I could bed pretty much _anyone_...”

“Stop!” He swatted her away from him, but he couldn’t help himself from smiling. She was utterly ridiculous. “You are not in your right mind.”

“Is it...skinny, dark hair, smokey eyes...emotionally cold and prickly? Verbally abusive?"

"Awww, you're not _that_ standoffish!" he laughed.

"_I_ was talking about _Morrigan_!"

Alistair’s mouth snapped shut and his whole body went rigid and he just stared at her while his cheeks turned such a dark shade of red that she could see him blushing in the firelight.

“Shit…” Solona whispered as realization finally hit her. She _could_. And he probably _would_. And it would be fun. And it might actually relieve some of this..._whatever_ this was. 

But it wouldn’t be what he wanted. And she realized, allofasudden, with a sinking feeling in her stomach that she was pretty sure wasn’t just the hunger pangs, that she actually _had_ started to care a lot about him, and she certainly didn’t want to do anything that might ruin the friendship that had so quickly arisen between them.

“You _are_ mean,” he managed to say as he stood up from the log. “Enjoy your..._frustrations_. I’m sure they’ll pass, _eventually_…” he muttered, sounding almost pleased that she was suffering.

“_Now_ who's being mean!?” Solona shouted as he stalked off to his own tent, leaving her alone, feeling a little bit guilty. But mostly just _hungry_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I was being a little redundant here with the last chapter re: Alistair/Solona's weird unrequited romance thing, so I made a few little tweaks to that chapter so Solona is just now realizing Alistair has a huge crush on her. Can you tell it's hard for me not to romance him this time?! It doesn't help that I cheated and put everyone at 100% approval with Feastday gifts so I could unlock all their dialogues, and had to outright turn him down and now Zevran won't even flirt with me, either!


	3. Nightmares and Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona's nightmares get a little more personal. Leliana brings chocolate, and has a lot to say about the 'Maker's love.'

Her hands. So impossibly soft on the top, but hard where the grips of her daggers and the trigger of her crossbow left rough callouses underneath. Running over her. Reaching for her. Grasping. Pulling. Digging. Tearing…

And..._shrieking_?

Solona wasn't sure if it was her own screams or somebody else's until...

Ah, yes. The Archdemon again. _Lovely_. 

She had come to recognize the hideous monster that haunted her dreams, and she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was actually beginning to understand its unintelligible hissing and garbled roars. She had started to feel its needs, its wants, its...commands. And at least some part of her _wanted_ to obey.

Solona woke up in a fever-breaking sweat, her loose night clothes clinging to her. Alistair had said her dreams might get worse. Before they either got better or she just learned to live with them. He hadn't really been very clear about that.

“Warden Amell…?”

_Her_ voice. Again. _Still_? Apparently, she was still dreaming.

"This is fucking torture!” she screamed into her pillow and tried to will herself awake before her dream twisted her desire for the pretty bard back into another nightmare.

“Oh my..._torture_?" Leliana peeked her head in under the flap of the tent’s entrance. "Solona, are you alright?”

“Leliana? Is that you?” _Please don’t have claws…_Solona thought, squinting up at her.

“I think so…?” Leliana didn’t sound too sure herself. And somehow, this was reassuring to Solona. “I heard you thrashing about and yelling."

Solona had convinced herself she'd only been imagining that Leliana had been setting her tent up closer and closer to hers each time they made camp over the past few days, and she hadn't dared to ask Alistair what he thought after their conversation a couple of nights ago. But it seemed she’d at least been close enough to hear her having this latest nightmare.

"I thought perhaps we were under attack?"

“Just in my sleep, it seems.” Solona laughed weakly, trying to play it off. “Alistair assures me that this is all perfectly normal.”

She rolled her eyes at herself. None of this was _normal_. Nothing would ever be normal again. Not that it ever really had been.

“Perhaps I can help? I have some good wine...and chocolate.”

"Ok, now I _know_ I must be dreaming...”

Leliana laughed, ducking the rest of the way into the tent. "I always keep a stash of the finer things for emergencies," she smiled, so warm and inviting that Solona didn't care anymore if she was real, part of a dream, or even a demon coming to tempt her in her vulnerable state.

"Maker preserve me," she huffed, feeling her insides turning into butterflies as Leliana scooted next to her. She was a clammy mess, her hair stuck to her face and her thin nightclothes soaked almost all the way through with sweat. But here was the woman she couldn't get out of her head, moving closer nonetheless.

"Oh, yes. Perhaps we _should_ say a prayer?"

"That's not exactly what I -- " But before Solona could finish, Leliana had knelt down right beside her, taking her cold hands into hers, even warmer than they'd been in her dream, the soft parts softer and the callouses right where she'd imagined them. 

Solona swallowed whatever she had been about to say in protest, as Leliana looked up at her with an earnest plea half-formed on those lips of hers.

"May I?"

She was helpless to say no to her. Whatever she might be asking for. Her soul, maybe? "Go ahead…" she stammered. It was a low, hoarse, blunt kind of noise, in stark contrast with the light lyrical lilt of the bard.

"Maker, please grant us the hope and courage we need as we prepare for the darkness and the battles that lie ahead of us."

"In Andraste's name…" Solona began to murmur obediently. It might have been the first time she'd uttered the phrase since childhood, refusing to go to the services held in the Circle as soon as she was old enough to opt out of them.

But instead of finishing the prayer, Leliana leaned forward and pressed her lips against Solona's, dry and thoroughly unprepared as they were.

Leliana’s, on the other hand, were soft and warm. And gentle. Like everything else about her, at first glance.

When she pulled away, Solona caught just a flash of the darker desire in her eyes, too. But she looked quickly away before revealing too much, smiling bashfully down at the ground instead.

"I see the Maker's love in all things…" She lifted her face up with the rapturous glow she had whenever she spoke of the Maker, the creases and wrinkles that Solona had begun to look for because they were like cracks into who this woman _really_ was had all gone smooth again. 

“_All_ things…?” Solona managed to choke out because if she didn’t say _something_, she was afraid she might wake up from what she was almost certain now was another dream.

“Mmhm…” A hint of a wink, a tiny crease between her brows. A little quirk in her smile. “And your lips are as sweet a way to end a prayer as any I can think of.” Leliana leaned in for another kiss. 

“Wait!” Solona pulled back just before their lips could meet again, hating that the voice of conscience in her head telling her to do so sounded an awful lot like Alistair allofasudden.

“What is it?" Leliana's forehead creased suddenly with worry. "Oh no! Have I misread you? The flowers you gave me...the flirting…I thought…?”

“No. It’s just...well, Alistair has informed me that I’m extra _amorous_ right now because of the Darkspawn blood I drank as part of my Joining...and well…" She really did sound just like him. What was wrong with her? "I would just feel bad if...”

“I understand.” Leliana sat back, her lips just barely pursed into a disappointed pout.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. I was the one who was being foolish. I feel I should explain…”

“There’s really nothing you need to --”

“I do not feel particularly beholden to conventional ideas about propriety when it comes to sex,” she blurted out, like some kind of confession.

“Oh?” Well this was certainly not something Solona was expecting to hear from the Chantry sister.

“Physical pleasure is a gift from the Maker! As much as any other thing that makes us feel good and loved. I could not take the Chantry vows of celibacy in good conscience knowing I would be turning my back on these opportunities to experience the Maker's love...”

“Oh…” Solona nodded approvingly, as if she understood completely. In _her_ experience, the Maker, if there even was such a thing, was cruel and distant. In the Circle, she’d only ever really heard about the many ways the Maker had chosen to _punish_ his children. Especially the ones bearing the 'curse' of magic.

“I do not believe our enjoyment of these gifts _needs_ to be wrapped up in the sort of relational demands and exclusive commitments people make to each other — the restrictions, the rules...”

Solona was beginning to feel as though she were listening to a sermon. But at least the message was something that interested her for a change. And the person preaching it was nice to look at.

Leliana blushed again, as if she had finally realized what she was trying to imply.

"I fancy you!" she laughed. "If I'm allowed to say so." 

“You are. Allowed to say so…”

"But what I’m _trying_ to say, is that if you do not return these feelings, it does not mean we cannot enjoy each other’s company while we have the opportunity to do so!”

“Oh, I’m familiar with casual sex, having spent almost all of my life up to this point in a Circle...” Solona laughed.

Leliana looked somehow saddened by this, which seemed more than a bit hypocritical considering she'd just offered a no-strings-attached encounter, but maybe she assumed casual sex in the Circle had nothing to do with the 'Maker's love' and therefore was excluded from this arrangement.

"I'm sorry. I must seem ridiculous to you," Leliana muttered.

“No! Not ridiculous! Your views are just...unique. I've never met a 'lay sister' like you...or anyone who actually believes the Maker could be so...kind."

Leliana frowned again.

"But I think I _do_ return your feelings,” Solona hastily confessed, hoping halfheartedly she might still be able to salvage this conversation. “And that’s why I think we need to just wait...until this nonsense with the Joining has passed.”

“Wait...so you _do_...have feelings? For _me_?”

“Yes. But it’s hard to figure them out when the Darkspawn blood is screaming at me through my veins like this."

“I see. That _does_ sound quite awful."

Solona nodded. 

"I um...oh this is so embarrassing! I promise I did not intend to throw myself so desperately at you like this! You just...you make me feel rather silly."

"Silly?"

"Yes. Like a young girl again!"

"Oh. Yes. Uh, same, actually…" But Solona knew it probably wasn't the same at all. Leliana as a young girl had probably been full of light and wonder and joy. Solona as a young girl had been even darker and more disagreeable than she was now.

"Disturbed," more than one of her teachers had called her, and if it hadn't been for the First Enchanter’s insistence that she was simply bored, and in need of more challenging training in spite of some of the senior enchanters' objections…well, she didn't want to think about that. It would've reminded her of Jowan's unknown fate, who hadn't been so lucky to have such a persistent advocate in Irving, and she wasn't ready to deal with the remaining guilt on top of everything else she was going through at the moment.

"Sorry…" She turned and smiled apologetically at her. "I drifted off into my head a bit there."

“It's fine. I imagine you have a lot on your mind."

They both sat in awkward silence for a moment until Leliana brightened up again. "Oh! I almost forgot! I really _did_ bring chocolate and wine." She reached into the satchel she had slung over her shoulder and pulled out a bottle and a little parcel wrapped in fancy gilded paper.

"Another gift from the Maker?" Solona asked, finally recovering some of her characteristic sarcasm.

"Oh no." Leliana looked darkly up at her, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "This comes from another realm, where the Maker's grace is spurned entirely…”

“I didn’t know they made chocolate in the Void?”

“No, silly! It’s from Orlais!" Leliana giggled, peeling back the pretty paper with relish.

Solona beamed at her and eyed the chocolate greedily as she snapped a piece off and handed it to her.

“It’s the good stuff,” Leliana assured her, unnecessarily.

Solona swallowed it too quickly to notice. “More…”

“I’m glad you like it.” Leliana broke her off an even larger piece. “Wine?”

“Maker, yes!”

Leliana smiled and pulled out one of the daggers she kept strapped to her body. With a mouth full of fine Orlesian chocolate, unable to even scream, Solona thought, _if this is the moment this woman chooses to slit my throat, I will have at least died happy, and I want Alistair to know I had no regrets_. 

But in a quick flash of metal and sparks, Leliana slashed the blade against the neck of the wine bottle instead.

“Show off…” Solona murmured, but the fluttering mess in her belly had become far more demanding allofasudden. She began to wonder if a single bottle of wine would be enough to dull her all-consuming hunger, even just a little bit.

“An old tavern trick. Basic bard stuff…” Leliana smiled smugly, pouring a generous amount of red wine into a goblet that suddenly reminded Solona of the Joining chalice.

She took it from her anyway and swallowed it down as quickly as she could and tried not to think too much about it. It certainly didn’t _taste_ like Darkspawn blood, anyway.

...

Somehow, along the way to finishing their bottle of wine and another bar of chocolate, Solona ended up lying with her head in Leliana’s lap, her hunger and restlessness somewhat satisfied for the moment by the indulgences and her company. Leliana ran her fingers through her long, dark hair, loosened from its messy bun, absently twisting it into little braids, while humming some unfamiliar song.

“What is that?” Solona asked.

She remembered Alistair had mentioned something about bards and their songs and how they could hypnotize you, and between the wine and the general lack of sleep, and the warmth of Leliana’s lap and the way her hands raked gently through her hair...well, she _was_ feeling pretty drowsy.

“Just an old Chantry hymn. The tune is probably older than the Chant of Light, I imagine. It’s a bit absurd, I know," she laughed. "But I find it comforting in dark times.”

“It's nice. Nothing like the dreary dirges they used to sing in the Circle…" Solona yawned.

“Then I shall continue humming it for you. Until you fall asleep. Or until I do...whichever happens first.”

"Promise?" Solona asked, already halfway there.

Leliana smiled down at her, twisting a braid around her pinky. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At various points throughout this chapter, Solona is wondering "is there really any chemistry between us, or am I just super horny?" but by the end, she's definitely beginning to understand Leliana. I think. I hope.


	4. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair intends to apologize. Solona feels like maybe she should be the one apologizing. Neither of them actually succeeds.

“Good! You’re awake…” Alistair seemed to have been waiting just outside her tent. Fretting, by the looks of it. How long had he been awake? It seemed like the sun had just finished rising. “I, uh, need to apologize, I think.”

“For what?” she asked irritably. It was way too early for this. She'd woken up with a headache and Leliana's elbows poking into her back. And she had to pee.

“For...umm...well, the other night. I shouldn’t have made you feel bad about…the _thing_...and...” He looked down at the ground, apparently still embarrassed. It had been three days. _Maker_, how could someone _be_ so precious?

“Good morning, Alistair…” Leliana ducked her head out from the tent.

“Oh, _hello_…” Alistair’s voice had somehow jumped about an octave in a failed effort not to sound completely bewildered. “..._Leliana_…”

Solona grimaced, trying hard not to laugh at his reaction. “There’s no need for you to apologize.”

“Well, I see that _now_!”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” She was having far too much fun with this, in spite of her headache and her full bladder. It wasn’t really fair, but it was _so_ easy to poke and prod and make him even more uncomfortable than he almost always seemed to be.

“Nothing. It’s just...nevermind!” He shook his head, still flustered. “Hopefully, you’re feeling less frustrated,” he muttered as he turned to leave.

_Oh, shit._ There was that hurt look again. The bitterness in his voice. She felt like she’d kicked a puppy. “Alistair, wait!” 

He kept walking, his shoulders hunched defensively. She didn’t want him to feel _bad_...

“Hang on!”

“No need to explain…”

“WE DIDN’T HAVE SEX!” she shouted at him in desperation.

Well, at least it made him stop. In fact, everyone in the camp stopped whatever they were doing for a moment before pretending they hadn’t heard her and continuing on with their morning preparations: Bodahn looked at Sandal who looked like he was about to say something and shook his head at the boy, Sten looked mildly exasperated, and Sweeney ducked his head down and whimpered, seemingly as embarrassed as any of them. Even Morrigan, far away from the rest of the camp, looked up and shook her head at them in pitying disapproval.

Solona was only slightly mortified. _Maker_, why would she feel the need to announce this to him? To anyone? To _everyone_!

She looked around at them all again, then back at Leliana, who had finished gathering her things and was just emerging from the tent. She nodded at her and shrugged before heading back into her own tent to get her armor and her crossbow.

Solona took a deep breath, and tried to explain, though what and why she felt the need was still unclear to her. “I told her I needed to wait a few days. Like you said. To sort out what I’m feeling from the Joining, and what I’m feeling about..._her_.”

“Oh, well. How very mature of you.” Alistair finally turned back around to face her, his eyebrow cocked the way it usually was when he was trying to think of something clever or ridiculous to say to save face or diffuse a tense situation. “Looks like you don’t really need my guidance at all, then. I’d probably just have told you to jump in a cold lake or chop wood or gorge yourself on tarts or something.”

"Alistair…" she exhaled. “You don’t need to do that for my sake.”

But she knew it wasn’t really for her sake.

“Do what?”

“Make jokes...to avoid...whatever.”

“I don’t…that’s not what I --”

“And besides, it was chocolate.” She winked at him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she wooed me with wine and songs and stories, like you warned she might, but mostly chocolate. I ate so much, I’m sure I’ve gained _at least _a pound.”

He laughed appreciatively, then sighed. "Sorry to be a downer, but we need to head to Redcliffe. No more playing around in the woods. You've somehow managed to get the elves on your side, which is impressive, but we still need to speak with Arl Eamon. He's a good man, and he can get the rest of Ferelden on our side as well. But we need to hurry, or there won’t be any Fereldans left to fight."

"What about the dwarves?"

Alistair laughed. "The dwarves? Really? You think they’ll have any inclination to join us? They deal with Darkspawn all the time down there. A Blight is hardly their concern. I bet they’re actually_ relieved_ the Darkspawn are pouring out onto the surface, and giving them a bit of peace!”

“Wow. I didn’t realize you thought so _little_ of dwarves…” Solona snickered, quite pleased with herself for that one.

Alistair had to force himself not to smile. Terrible jokes at inappropriate times were meant to be _his_ thing. “I don’t! But I know what they’re like. What about the Circle mages or the Templars? Hmmm?"

Solona shot him a dark look. "I am _not_ ready to go back there."

"So Redcliffe it is, then?"

"Fine!"

Alistair nodded, feeling victorious for once. "Good." 

"Yes! Good! Fine! Whatever you say..."

“I see you really _didn’t_ have sex. You’re as disagreeable as ever,” he retorted smugly. “Unless it just wasn’t very good…?”

“What would _you_ know about --” Solona began.

“Would you like some chocolate as well?” Leliana had re-emerged, fully-armored and ready to head out. And she was holding a bar of chocolate out for Alistair.

He looked at it as though she were offering him the severed head of a Genlock on a platter.

“Uh…”

“Take the chocolate, Alistair,” Solona grinned menacingly. “It’s delicious. From _Orlais_…”

His trepidation turned into a look of complete and utter loathing and he threw his hands up in the air and walked away from both of them as Solona broke off another piece and shoved it into her mouth.

“Breakfast chocolate,” Solona nodded, decisively. “I’d like to officially make this a thing.”

Leliana laughed, then sighed regretfully. “This is, unfortunately, the last of it.”

Solona looked horrified. “And you would have given it to _Alistair_?!”

“He looked like maybe he needed it?”

“You’re far too good of a person, Leliana...”

“You are still just getting to know me.” She smiled, and there was a hint of that darkness again, peeking out in the creases and wrinkles, the twisting of her lips, the tiniest tilt of her head, and the twinkle in her grey-blue eyes.

_Fuck! _Solona thought. _I’m in love!_ And then, before she pissed herself, she scurried off into the forest.


End file.
